


Tales from the Eternal Alliance: A Simple Choice

by SWTORpadawan



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2019-11-13 09:43:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18029321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SWTORpadawan/pseuds/SWTORpadawan
Summary: It is a simple choice. It may not always be easy, but it is a simple.





	1. A Simple Choice

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by @swtor-prompts for 22 February 2019 – “It’s not the destination, it’s the journey.” The story takes place at the end of Chapter 6 of Knights of the Eternal Throne.

Arcann jumped down from the shuttle, the bottoms of his boots hitting the duracrete floor of the Alliance hangar on Odessen.

 

Almost immediately, a squad of four Alliance soldiers – two wearing the armor of the Galactic Republic, two wearing the armor of the Sith Empire – stepped forward, weapons drawn on him, ready to fire.

 

Arcann’s body tensed involuntarily, but he made no move to draw his lightsaber or to otherwise defend himself. If the Alliance Commander chose to turn against him after his submission on Zakuul and everything he had done, then so be it. It would be no more than he deserved.

 

Instead, the Outlander raised a hand to his men, the gesture firm and unwavering.

 

The four soldiers stood down at once. Whatever their respective backgrounds and previous allegiances, whatever their training, they obeyed their commander without question. Their loyalty was absolute.

 

All around the hangar, Alliance personnel looked up from whatever they had been doing. Private conversations ended abruptly. Maintenance work was delayed. Every set of eyes turned to the scene being played out in the middle of the hangar. To Arcann and the Commander. Most of the faces were startled. One or two looked angry. But no one made a sound.

 

Indeed, one could have heard a pin drop in the silence.

 

Arcann chose to take the initiative, cautiously stepping towards the Commander.

 

“Revenge consumed me for too long.” Arcann’s gravelly words broke the silence. His voice, no longer muffled through his mask, was almost alien to his own ears. “But you saved my mother. And for that I’m in your debt.”  

 

The Alliance Commander, the man whom Arcann himself had once dubbed ‘Outlander’ as an insult and who had been his mortal enemy for nearly a year, smiled reassuringly. The mere expression displayed a combination of strength, self-assuredness and compassion. Not for the first time, Arcann was reminded of his brother, Thexan, dead at Arcann’s own hand over five years ago.

 

“Senya believed in your ability to change. And she was right.”

 

The mention of his mother moved Arcann. He felt an unexpected sense of longing to see the woman who had given birth to him, and who had risked everything to see him redeemed.

 

“She was right about you as well. I finally see it.”

 

Arcann meant it, as well. His former, _darker_ self could never grasp his mother’s actions in abandoning the Eternal Throne to fight at the side of some upstart Outlander, much less one who was the vessel for his father’s spirit. He had foolishly chalked it up to another betrayal. It was only now that he knew better.

 

“But your work is not complete. My sister’s reign of destruction is far from over.”

 

“We’ll stop her. Together.” The Commander’s words were full of a steely resolve and confidence reflected in his eyes. Arcann was surprised at how much he _believed_ the words. There was a quiet charisma to the Outlander that could inspire his followers to great feats. It should have been no surprise that his Alliance had accomplished so much.

 

“Agreed.” Arcann replied firmly.

 

“Good.” The Commander smiled again, then extended a hand towards Arcann to shake.

 

“Welcome to the Alliance.”

 

Intellectually, Arcann was aware that the offer of a handshake was a common enough gesture throughout most of the galaxy, from Zakuul to the Core worlds and to the Rim. But to him, it was a foreign act. No one had ever extended their hand to him in friendship.

 

No one had ever truly been his friend. Not since Thexan.

 

Arcann reached out and accepted the handshake. The grip was firm, but there was no aggression behind it. No contest of wills or strength. The Outlander had opposed him with relentless determination – and even ruthlessness – during their encounter on Asylum. But now he was accepting Arcann gracefully – even warmly – into his Alliance.

 

“I… thank you.” He finally managed.

 

“Good.” The Commander declared, still smiling.

 

He withdrew his hand, then turned back to his advisors. Arcann had reviewed intelligence reports on Beniko and Shan, though he now suspected what he had read did not do either of them justice. Both individuals had been keeping their peace since he stepped off the shuttle, allowing the Commander to take the lead. Theron Shan, the former Republic spy, who’d been at the Palace with the Commander on Zakuul when Arcann had joined them, had a rather contemplative expression on his face, as if he were running down the possibilities and opportunities now that Arcann had joined them. Lana Beniko, a Sith Lord and former Imperial spymaster, appeared far more skeptical of Arcann’s motives, her yellow eyes narrowed just a bit.

 

Arcann could not blame her.

 

It was Beniko whom the Commander addressed. “Lana, we can hold off on the debriefing for a bit, I think.”

 

Beniko nodded sharply. She may have privately questioned the wisdom of the order and what’s more of allowing Arcann to remain free, but she would never raise it publicly. Yet another display of loyalty towards the Outlander.

 

“Of course, Commander.”

 

The Outlander returned the nod, then turned back to Arcann with a smile, giving him a comradely pat on his shoulder.

 

“Come on. I’ll take you to her.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

The two men walked through the passageways of the Alliance base. As had taken place in the hangar, where they passed people, jaws dropped, and eyes widened. No one protested or challenged them, but many did look angry.

 

 _How many of them blamed Arcann for the loss of a loved one? Or perhaps even their entire family? Their homes? Their communities? Their home worlds?_ Arcann thought. The practical realities of serving in an organization that had originally been established to bring about his overthrow started to dawn on him. It was a sobering thought.

 

That notion must have been reflected in Arcann’s eyes, as the Commander clearly picked up on it.

 

“I can’t do much about that staring. But you have my word you will not be harmed or interfered with.” The Outlander promised. “You will have to prove yourself to them, but I promise you’ll have the opportunity to do that.”

 

He spoke with certainty. With complete confidence in himself and his people. It was oddly comforting.

 

“Then I’m again in your debt.”

 

The Commander simply nodded and pressed on.

 

Arcann wondered for a moment that the Commander had led him himself, alone, and with no armed escort. He realized that the Outlander was sending a message to the rest of the Alliance – that he was personally vouching for Arcann; that this was not the man he had fought on Asylum and later at Arcann’s flagship above Odessen. More important, the Commander was telling them that he personally trusted Arcann, and that they should, too.    

 

Eventually, they entered a medical bay. The room was long and relatively narrow, the beds all running across in a single row. There were about twenty beds, each with their own monitoring stations. Despite the Alliance’s lack of access to most Zakuulan technology, Arcann was impressed with the professionalism and cleanliness of the room. What the nascent rebellion lacked in resources they made up for in resourcefulness and dedication. Medical droids – most of them originating from within the Sith Empire – moved this way and that, checking patients, taking samples and cleaning up when needed.

 

Only four of the beds in the chamber were occupied. Two of them – a Sullustan and a male human – seemed to be resting quietly. A third, a male Twi’lek, was awake, and was eating a meal. When he saw the Commander of the Alliance walk in with Arcann, his once sworn enemy, the man blinked hard. Then he picked up his glass and stared at his beverage, perhaps concerned that seeing Arcann was the result of a drug-induced hallucination. Nevertheless, the man didn’t disturb them.

 

Laying on the bed on the far corner of the room lay Arcann’s mother.

 

Senya Tirall was lying peacefully, with the life-signs monitor above her bed giving the only evidence that she was still alive. Though Arcann had spent some months on the run with his mother earlier in the year, in his severely injured state, he was in and out of consciousness, barely waking at all most days. He was hardly ever lucid enough to properly _observe_ her in detail.         

 

 _Even now, she is still beautiful._ Arcann sighed inwardly. Her features were still sharp and lovely. Near-constant fighting and training had kept the Knight of Zakuul in top form. As he noted the lines etched in his mother’s face and the gray hairs that mixed with her raven-black tresses, he couldn’t help but wonder how many of those signs were the natural result of age, and how many had been caused by the strain of Arcann’s actions. Despite all that, the expression on her face was serene. It was possible that this coma-like state in which she found herself was the most restful Senya had been in years.  

 

Arcann took his mother’s hand in his and fell to his knees beside her bed. The wellspring of emotions surging inside him proved almost overwhelming. He wanted to beg for her forgiveness for all that had happened, to thank her profusely for saving his life on the flagship, and to swear he would never leave her side again. It was all he could do to press his lips to Senya’s hand as he smothered a sob.

 

But she remained in her deep slumber, her mind a thousand parsecs away.

 

Arcann felt a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Here.” The Commander said, pulling up a chair so Arcann could sit comfortably. The former Zakuulan Emperor reluctantly rose, never releasing Senya’s hand. He accepted the offered seat, taking his place next to her bed.

 

“Vaylin can wait. I’ll arrange for some privacy.” The Outlander spoke quietly, once Arcann was seated.

 

He then turned to leave, but Arcann stopped him.

 

“Commander, wait.” He released Senya’s hand, gently laying it back on the bed, and stood up, turning to face to Outlander. The Commander simply paused, with a questioning eyebrow raised.

 

“Why did you help me?” Arcann finally asked the question that had been gnawing at him all this time. He had originally assumed that he was merely a resource to the Commander, a weapon to be used against Vaylin before discarding. But the Commander’s displays of compassion put the lie to that theory. “On Voss and… now. Letting me join your Alliance. Why are you being so kind? Why?”

 

The Outlander gave no immediate answer, saying nothing for a while. Then his brow furrowed into a deep frown, and his eyes took on a dark look. Arcann was now reminded of that last battle with the Commander, back on the flagship, when the two of them fought with the belief that only one of them would walk away alive. For a moment, he was worried he had gone too far, and that the Outlander would now turn on him, slaying him as he stood above his mother’s bed.

 

Then Arcann realized that the Outlander’s eyes weren’t focused on the former emperor; they seemed to be looking _past_ him, just over his shoulder, zeroing in on the apparently empty space. A thought crossed his mind.

 

_Father?_

 

Before Arcann could ask, the Commander’s gaze dropped to Senya. His eyes softened, and he finally spoke.

 

“My friend asked me to help her save her son.” He said quietly, by way of an answer.

 

Arcann was struck dumb at that, unable to reconcile his words with everything that had passed between them.

 

“You make it sound so simple.”

 

“It is simple.” The Outlander replied somberly. “It may not always be easy, but it is a simple choice.”

 

Arcann swallowed awkwardly, once again reminded of Thexan. His brother had lived and fought by simple principles, until Arcann’s misdirected rage had destroyed him.

 

“I will strive to prove myself worthy of the trust you… and my mother… have placed in me.” Arcann promised.

  

The Commander smiled, patting Arcann on the shoulder.

 

“I know you will. Just remember that this path you’ve undertaken is a journey, not a destination.”

 

With that, he turned and headed towards the exit. “We’ll meet in the war room in an hour.” He spoke over his shoulder on the way out. “I try not to keep Lana and Theron waiting.”

 

Arcann watched the Commander depart. The Twi’lek patient on the other end of the room had dozed off, leaving the former Emperor alone with his mother.

 

He sat down again, taking his mother’s hand gingerly.

 

“I will undertake this journey, mother.” Arcann vowed quietly.

 

“And I will finally make you proud.”


	2. A Light in the Pain

Lana Beniko watched in cool contemplation as Corellan Halcyon, the Commander of the Eternal Alliance, warmly exchanged parting pleasantries with Senya Tirall and her son, Arcann, in the war room of the Alliance base on Odessen. The Commander was seeing the two Zakuulans off, as they were departing on a relief mission to Voss. That neutral world had been devastated by Vaylin during the war, and all in the effort to slay her mother and brother. This left the duo well-suited for the mission and highly committed to the task; the Voss people believed in balance above all else. It was ideal that the Alliance respect that belief by sending those who had drawn Vaylin’s eye to their world in the first place to assist in their recovery.

 

Lana’s eyes narrowed slightly as the Commander gently reached out and grasped Arcann’s shoulder in a comradely gesture of affection. Corellan Halcyon was naturally friendly and amicable with his people; this, Lana was perfectly aware of. Nevertheless, she was less than comfortable with his familiarity with the former Emperor.

 

As Senya and Arcann walked past her, Lana exchanged a friendly nod and smile with the Zakuulan Knight. Senya and Lana had been friends for some time, indeed, since long before Lana and her allies had rescued Corellan from Zakuul, thus triggering the rebellion and the formation of the Alliance. Although Senya was several years older than Lana, both women often provided the voice of “pragmatic maturity” amongst those who advised the Commander, sometimes in contrast to what Lana felt could be Theron Shan’s “reckless optimism” or Koth Vortena’s naivete. And, on a more personal level, she valued Senya’s company and friendship. Lana did not count many people as personal friends, after all.  

 

That sentiment hadn’t stopped Lana from advising the Commander to kill Senya and Arcann if given the opportunity when it appeared that Senya intended to see her son escape justice after the Commander had toppled him from power.

 

Corellan had made a different choice, of course. And he’d been proven right. Senya had ultimately rejoined the Alliance alongside a reformed Arcann, and together they had eventually taken down first Vaylin and finally Valkorian. The mother and son had unquestionably become two of the Commander’s most powerful allies. 

 

And perhaps, two of his closest companions. The Commander had invested a considerable portion of his scant free time to Arcann, and the two warriors could often be seen speaking quietly together around the base or even more often sparring in the training ring. Senya, for her part, had taken an active interest in drawing the Commander out from the fugue that seemed to have come over him these last few weeks. Lana and Senya had spoken at length of what might have befallen the former Jedi in that finally battle with Valkorion. Even Senya, who had been present in Corellan’s mind at the time, didn’t have the answers, but she seemed determined to help him recover. For the moment, Lana was comfortable allowing her to take the lead.

 

Publicly, the Commander was still a rock. A pillar. A paragon. He went about his duties with the same stoic determination he had always shown. Privately, Lana and others close to him were concerned that he seemed… restless. She was relieved that he had been keeping Teeseven, his loyal astromech droid, by his side almost constantly since Zakuul. 

 

As the two departed, Lana repressed a shudder at the memory of her advice to the Commander. For once, she was relieved that he hadn’t acted on her counsel. Lana continued to enjoy Senya’s friendship, even if she still found it difficult to trust her son.

 

With the main hub of the war room now relatively quiet, Lana stepped forward to where Corellan was reviewing a list of incoming messages with Vette, their Twi’lek professional thief turned communications specialist. Theron was out on assignment, checking in with some of his old underworld contacts, so things were relatively quiet today.

 

“Commander… might I ask you a personal question?” Lana finally said.

 

Corellan looked up from Vette’s datapad, smiling pleasantly as usual. “Of course, Lana. What is it?”

 

Lana pressed her lips together. She (almost) never questioned the Commander in public, but Teeseven and Vette were both safe enough and everyone else in the room was busy with their own duties. Nevertheless, she spoke quietly, her voice just above a whisper.

 

“Why did you take the risk of allowing Arcann to join the Alliance?” Lana finally asked the question that had been nagging at her for weeks, now.

 

The Commander stood stoically as he listened to her question. The smile had faded from his lips, but he otherwise gave nothing away. Indeed, Lana knew he was rather skilled at guarding his reactions, an attribute that she’d assumed was a legacy of his old Jedi training. Corellan’s pale blue eyes gave little away, and he seemed to be looking almost _past_ Lana. Several seconds passed before he seemed to come to a decision on how to respond to her inquiry.  

 

Finally, he turned towards Vette, having made a choice.

 

“Vette, could you and Teeseven watch over everything here for a while? I think Lana and I need to go off duty for a bit.”

 

Vette beamed cheerfully, pleased to be trusted with the responsibility. “Sure thing, Commander. Tee and I can hold down the fort.”

 

The little astromech droid quietly observed the proceedings but said nothing.

 

“Thank you.” Corellan replied, regaining his confident smile. “Comm us if any emergencies pop up.”

 

He then turned back to Lana.

 

“Lana, follow me, won’t you?”

 

 

* * *

 

Lana followed Corellan out of the war room and up the lift to the base’s main observation deck. From there, it was a short walk over to the cantina, which was inevitably the heart of social life on Odessen. True, there were mess halls and other gathering areas, but the cantina was where the people of the Alliance came to relax among their fellow personnel while off-duty. They met, chatted, gossiped, played, blew off steam, and occasionally engaged in romantic trysts with each other. The celebration when they had returned from Zakuul victorious at the war’s end had lasted all through the night until the following morning.

 

The cantina jukebox was playing the now-familiar Huttese song, _Kayfoundo Naweea_ , in the background. It seemed to have become an Alliance favorite. Privately, Lana loathed the tune. Despite years of effort, her Huttese was still weak, and while she understood the words to this track well enough by now, the sound was still grating to her ears.

 

The presence of the Commander, as usual, elicited several glances and quiet whispers from those present. And as usual, Corellan appeared not to notice, simply approaching the bar.

 

The bartender on duty, a bear of a man named Rex, grinned as he stood up straight and saluted the Commander. “Boss! How goes? What’ll ya have?” Rex had been a veteran Republic soldier before joining the Alliance. After his injuries fighting Vaylin’s forces on Odessen had left him unfit for further combat, the man had retired from active duty, but chose to stay on with the Alliance to tend bar in the cantina. Lana recalled that Rex had briefly met the Commander on Balmorra many years ago, an experience that made joining the Alliance a simple choice for him in the first place.

 

“It goes well, Rex.” Corellan smiled pleasantly, as he did with almost everyone. He reached into the pocket on his belt and pulled out a high-denomination credit chip, laying it down on the counter. “Could I trouble you for a bottle of Kaasi Brandy, and two glasses? Hold the ice.”

 

Rex’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Corellan rarely drank, and then only socially. Even then, he normally chose lighter beverages. Clearly, Rex was impressed that the Commander had even heard of the liquor, which was considered a luxury good here on Odessen even with nominal trade with the Sith Empire. Lana struggled not to mirror the surprise on Rex’s face.

 

_Whatever he wants to tell me must be serious._

 

“Coming right up, Commander.” the bartender answered with a certain enthusiasm. A moment later, the expensive and unopened bottle was produced, along with the two glasses. “Anything else?”

 

Corellan shook his head. “Just a bit of privacy. Thanks, Rex.”

 

The bartender nodded again in the sage understanding his profession was known for, taking up the credit chip from the bar. Then he turned away, returning to his duties.

 

Corellan took the bottle and glasses, leading Lana to the small table in the dark corner of the cantina. From here, they could speak in relative privacy. Much to Lana’s relief, the jukebox had mercifully started playing a different song, and thus the background noise from around the Cantina soon became much more bearable.

 

The Commander said nothing, letting Lana sit first before taking his own seat opposite her. He sat at an angle, something of a slouch, really. Lana frowned a bit while observing that. Corellan Halcyon rarely sat down; he was almost always in motion, and he was quite capable of standing for hours on end without complaint. But on those occasions when he did sit, she had noticed he tended to do so at this angle. The droop contrasted starkly with everything else she had ever observed about his personality. Simply put, Corellan Halcyon was not the kind of man who one would expect to _slouch_.

 

_Something else I still haven’t puzzled out about him._

 

He set down the bottle and the glasses, carefully breaking the seal before finally opening it. He poured a glass and slid it across the table in Lana’s direction before pouring his own. Lana was surprised at the care he took; not a drop of liquor spilled to the table, and the amount of drink in both glasses appeared identical. Clearly, he had observed Rex and other skilled bartenders do this sort of thing. Corellan had a talent for picking up and mimicking the mannerisms and body movements of others, both in combat their maneuvers and in everyday actions.  

 

Lana had seen Corellan drink before. At the party celebrating the Alliance’s formation. After the Commander had defeated Arcann on his flagship. She had missed seeing him at the celebration after Zakuul where she understood he had had far too many drinks at the prompting of Kaliyo Djannis before Senya had rescued him from that situation. But in all their months of working together, they had never actually ‘had drinks’ together.

 

Only when he was done did Corellan take his drink in his hand and raise it to Lana.

 

“To a moment’s respite.” He looked at Lana sincerely.

 

Lana raised her glass hesitantly, tapping the Commander’s own upraised glass with a brief _clink_ sound. He waited for her to take a sip first before tasting it himself. Lana savored the taste of the fine liquor, but she was far more interested in Corellan’s reaction.

 

The Commander had closed his eyes as he tasted the drink before placing the glass back down. His face was mostly impassive, but his head tilted slightly in contemplation. He slowly exhaled, then finally opened his eyes again, favoring Lana with a slight nod.

 

“Smooth. Sweet and yet subtle. I see why you favor this stuff.”

 

_He’s never tried it before. How did he know that Kaasi Brandy is one of my favorites?_ Lana silently asked herself.

 

“I do.” She confirmed aloud, still regarding him intently.

 

In response, the Commander simply stared into his glass in front of him as it sat on the table.

 

“There are a number of answers I could give to your question.” He said quietly. “But this is the one I will share with you.”

 

Another pause.

 

“Have I ever told you about the first time I fought the Emperor?”

 

That question startled Lana. She didn’t need to ask who the Commander was referring to. It clearly was _not_ a reference to Arcann.

 

_Tenebrae. Vitiate. Valkorion. That ancient evil had plagued the entire galaxy for more than a millennium. The entity who had ruled both the Sith Empire and Zakuul for years without either of them being the wiser. He had finally met his end at the hands of Corellan Halcyon, much to the relief of everyone._

 

Lana considered her response carefully. “I know he defeated you and the other Jedi who attacked him at his Fortress, his orbital space station.” She paused. “And that he held you prisoner there for several months.”

 

Corellan nodded, still not looking away from his glass. “Yes. Most people think that was the first time I fought against him. But its not so.”

 

Very cautiously, Lana reached out to the Commander through the Force. She was first alarmed that his defenses felt so weak. Open, even. What worried her even more was the melancholy that seemed to permeate him. Whatever had happened to him in that final battle with Valkorion, whatever trauma he had suffered, was now being aggravated by some dark memory from his past. To those closest to the Commander, it was no secret that something had clearly been plaguing him since he had taken the Eternal Throne. Whatever it was had obviously been heavily repressed with determination and sheer force of will. He refused to show weakness, not even to those who, like Lana, he’d spent a great deal of his time with. He was simply… troubled. Listless. Distracted. He seemed more sentimental about his past. His conversation with Ranna Tao’ven by holo a few days ago had only highlighted this reality in Lana’s mind, though she was relieved that it seemed to have cheered him up for a while.

 

Every time she’d asked him if he was alright, he would simply insist that he was fine.

 

_He spent five years in carbonite with Valkorion haunting his dreams. Then I freed him, and we were suddenly on the run from Arcann’s forces. Then right after he was almost killed on Asylum, I all but forced him to take command of the Alliance. Then we spent months fighting a war that involved him in almost constant combat on so many worlds. In the process he was compelled to change his entire approach to the Force almost on the fly. Then the former Chancellor of the Republic – a Republic he once swore to serve and for whom he was their greatest hero – tried to assassinate him. Then he faced Valkorion, barely emerging victorious, and this resulting in the destruction of the millennia-old demigod within his mind._

**_Of course,_** _he is not ‘fine’. How could he be? And how much of the responsibility for that falls on me?_ Lana asked herself.

 

The Commander continued even while Lana deliberated.

 

“Some months before we attacked his Fortress, the Emperor tried to kill me… through one of his _Children_.”

 

Lana suppressed an inward shiver at that word. Years ago, the Children of the Emperor had been a group of Sith taken as infants and subjected to Vitiate’s dark rituals. Each had been imbued with a portion of his power so they could serve as his eyes, ears, and, when needed, his weapons. Worse still, they were all but undetectable as Force users, even to powerful Sith and Jedi alike. Even for the Dark Council and other high-ranking Sith throughout the Empire, the Children had been secretive; all but unknown. The Emperor never saw fit to reveal them to most of his followers. It was generally understood that the Children were acting as spies within the Republic, passing along intelligence and performing sabotage and assassination missions as needed. But that was as much as anyone knew. Some Dark Lords assumed that the Emperor kept the identities of the Children a closely guarded secret so he could use them to spy on his own supporters.

 

The modern Empire, free of Vitiate’s control, believed the Children had been wiped out by the time of his return on Yavin at the end of the Revanite crisis. When Lana had served as the Minister of Sith Intelligence, she had dedicated what resources she could to confirming (or disproving) this assertion. She had her suspicions but had found little evidence to prove their continued existence.

 

“He sent an assassin after you.” Lana didn’t bother phrasing it as a question. She finished her brandy, downing the remnant in one gulp. Corellan took up the bottle again and refilled her glass without hesitation, pausing his tale before continuing.

 

“In a manner of speaking.” He looked wistful. “I had defeated one of his plots – another of his cat’s paws – when she struck. He spoke to me _directly_ through her. In his actual voice. He told me he saw… futures in me that he wouldn’t allow. He recognized that I might become a threat to him. Then he attacked. We fought. It was a hard fight, but I prevailed.”

 

The Commander paused, taking another small sip of his drink. Lana noted he was still nursing it slowly.

 

“Then he tried channeling even more power through the Child. Enough to destroy the ship we were on. He was ready to sacrifice her in order to kill me.”

 

Lana began on her second drink, musing that over. “You obviously escaped.”

 

“No.” he answered quietly. “She broke free.”

 

Lana nearly spat out the brandy in her mouth. She grasped the table for support as she stifled a coughing fit, finally swallowing the liquid down. It took her a moment to regain her breath.

 

“What.” Lana finally managed, recovering.

 

Corellan showed no other reaction to Lana’s coughing. He looked past her, as if off in the distance.

 

“She broke free.” He repeated the words. “She realized that the Emperor wasn’t simply willing to sacrifice her life to destroy me. He was also willing to obliterate her own sense of identity, the _person_ who she was. You understand?” he exhaled slowly. “And she refused to let him. She rejected him. She purged herself of his mark completely.”

 

“How?” Lana was incredulous.

 

Corellan was still looking past her, but with a wistful smile.

 

“In a sheer act of will, she embraced the light. She burned him right out of her mind.” He paused, his eyes almost sparkling. “You should have seen it, Lana. It was more than incredible. It was… _glorious_. The light side so rarely manifests itself like that. Directly, I mean. Watching her free herself was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.”

 

The Commander sighed at the memory, then sipped his drink again. Lana found herself completely caught up in his tale. She had _never_ heard him talk like this.

 

“Afterwards, of course, it made me overconfident. Arrogant. I didn’t think twice about joining in with Tol Braga’s plan. And that mistake nearly cost me everything.”

 

He was still looking away from her, but she could feel the regret in his voice. That was as troubling as anything else. Corellan didn’t normally linger overly long on his decisions. He made them – right or wrong – then he learned from them and moved on. But this one mistake, she could tell, still lingered with him years later.

 

If she hadn’t been watching him intently, she’d have missed the troubled flicker in his eyes. It was pain.

 

Since she had freed him almost a year before, Lana had stood at the Commander’s side virtually every day for hours on end. Both in the field, in battle and through countless operational planning meetings at the base. Surely, by now, she should know him as well as anyone. But even now, after everything they had been through, she realized that she had barely scratched the surface.

 

“The point is I learned two things that day, Lana. First, I learned then that he could be beaten. And second, that the people who had fallen under his influence were worth saving if I could.”

 

“Once I accepted those truths, giving Arcann a chance became a simple choice.”

 

“You can’t help everyone he ever harmed.” Lana retorted.

 

“You’re right.” The Commander said quietly. “But I can try.” There was a sincere look of optimism in his smile, a faint glimmer of hope amidst a sea of pain.

 

Lana exhaled slowly then polished off her second glass. Without even looking, Corellan poured her a third. Lana regarded the glass, then looked back up at the Commander.

 

“Whatever happened to this Child who freed herself?”

 

His response was crisp and short.

 

“She became a Jedi.”

 

Lana pursed her lips, realizing she was on delicate ground here. “Is she still alive?” She recalled the Jedi had suffered severe casualties opposing the Eternal Empire during the initial invasion.

 

“As far as I know.” He answered. There was a pained finality in his tone.

 

_What is he keeping from me?_

 

Corellan finally refocused his eyes on her, for the first time in what seemed like minutes.

 

“But even if she didn’t survive, then at least she died free of him.”

 

He finally polished off his drink, then stood up. She could feel the pain within him start to fade and dull. She hoped it was more from their talk than from the alcohol.

 

He turned to her.

 

“Lana, I realize it’s not always easy following someone like me. Doing what I do, the choices I make… I know it’s not always pragmatic. Or obviously logical. Sometimes I can’t even properly explain my decisions. I know I haven’t always been able to follow your advice. I know there are challenges in trying to run this operation based on my principles. But they are all I have.”

 

He seemed to have collected himself. Once more, his armor was back on. He was the Commander again.

 

“Know that I will always value your counsel, Lana, and the work you do. I never could have made it this far without you.”

 

He crossed an arm across his chest and bowed to her then, showing the same form he’d used back when he was a Jedi. Lana found it touching; between the alcohol and his words, a warm feeling formed in her belly.

 

He rose again, then turned to leave.

 

“Keep the bottle as a gift. I don’t need it.”

   

Lana watched him depart. She wasn’t sure about that one, but she was relieved that whatever that pain she had felt was, he seemed determined not to rely on alcohol to treat it.

 

She stood up, taking the bottle with her. This wasn’t the end of it, she knew. But she was satisfied with letting Senya try to deal with it first.

 

For now.

 

 

* * *

**_Author’s Notes:_ ** _Okay, so I cheated a bit on this one, as it doesn’t really focus on Arcann. But one of my main goals of this series was to explore Corellan’s motivations for choosing to help Arcann. So, this chapter involved an event from Corellan’s past. I promise future chapters will focus on everyone’s favorite former Emperor, and his kick-ass mother. Corellan, meanwhile, may be a paragon of nobility, but he can be a jerk with his friends sometimes, especially when he’s damaged. There are ways in which he defines allies, friends, companions and even family that he needs to work through._

_Kaasi Brandy is a real thing in the game. If you play the Trooper campaign, Elara Dorne gives you a bottle of it if you aren’t romancing her as a gesture of respect and affection. It just seemed like she and Lana might share similar tastes._

_Also – Rex from Clone Wars / Rebels is now a bartender for the Eternal Alliance. I don’t know._


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